One on Friday: In which Sus is sad because they moved her cheese

Out of sorts is probably the best way to describe the state of discontent, uneasiness, and unsettledness in which I currently reside.

Community is a valuable word to me.  By nature an introvert, I prefer a smaller, close circle of friends with whom I can enter into meaningful relationships .  The stability of those friendships grounds me because one can handle the erratic nature of the day-to-day knowing the constancy and dependability of community is there to walk with you. I have several communities dear to me – childhood and college friends, work colleagues from the DC days, this blog (can you believe it will be five years old this fall?) – but many who fall in these groups are scattered.  They live all across the country, even the world, and for that reason, my local church community figures as one of the most important to me in terms of daily life.

I’ve attended my church for over 10 years and have been fortunate for the last four to be a part of a wonderful Sunday School class that has been instrumental in helping me put one foot in front of the other, week after week after week.  We’ve laughed, mourned, served, celebrated, prayed, played, and lived life together.  New baby?  Take a meal.  Moving? I’ll bring the truck.  Kid failing in school?  We’re going to pray him to the next grade and support you while you help him. It’s with this group that I could be honest, flip, glib, and serious.

These are my people.

But this past week, because of a need to make room at our later worship service, class assignments for the kids changed and Craig and I have been forced to attend a different hour in order to accommodate the kids’ new schedule.

I’ve lost my people.

And I am bereft.

Maybe a little over the top but I love the word.

For someone who values flexibility and spontaneity, I have not taken to this change well. Sunday mornings were the highlight of my week; gabbing on the back row with the fellow rabble-rousers, catching up with the other moms I couldn’t see during the week, looking forward to the lesson (seriously!), and recharging my batteries for the week ahead with a group of people who knew how to support and encourage each other. It was my community, my haven, people I’d walked with for years, my very happy, loud, noisy, joyful place.  And now it’s gone.

We walked into the new class this week.  Yes, there were familiar faces but it was different.  It was quiet, smaller, sad.  We’re all mourning and I’m feeling unmoored in a place that has always been my anchor.  I’m fighting resentment, trying to be an adult about the reality of the situation but it’s hard.  Loyalty, stability, friendship – these aren’t abstract concepts – these are core values for me and they’ve been upended. My community is leveled and without sounding too melodramatic BECAUSE WE KNOW THAT NEVER HAPPENS AROUND HERE I feel like all I have left is splinters with which to rebuild.

Craig says I’ll find my footing in the new place. Maybe by gathering the splinters together, adding some new attitude, and mixing it all with a little time, I can make a stepping stone towards a new home.

I really liked my old one, though.

Have a nice day.


6 responses to “One on Friday: In which Sus is sad because they moved her cheese

  1. I feel so sad for you. Can’t think of a joke, yet. When I saw Gretchen’s post, last week, I was aghast that a church would dream of telling folks when to attend, ESPECIALLY because of the fellowship groups that are so important for accountability, etc. I guess that says something very positive about the the maturity of believers in your church – that your leadership would knowingly displace people, in order to accommodate more,because they had to know the angst it would cause. I fear we would lose many folks. We’ve lost many for a bunch of lesser reasons.

    Praying for new life in your church, for you to find your footing, and for grace to cover all.

    I’ll let you know when I have a good joke.

    But for now, mourning with those who mourn.

  2. Trust me, as the guy who makes those decisions from the other side of the cheese moving equation, your church knows how tough this is and works hard to minimize impacts. We just moved a lot of people’s cheese on Wednesday nights, and I spent the first evening fielding (completely understandable) complaints until late into the night. My only suggestion is to give your church leadership two things: 1) constructive, non-emotional criticism, and 2) time. Communicate, and then see how it works for a month or so.

  3. Absolutely, ^^^. Our church (my friends) has moved our cheese in other ways, and I know it has to be more than difficult for them. I have to tell myself that God cares more about discipling than about my comfort. He knows I don’t like that. But I’m working on it.

  4. I KNOW you’re up for the challenge that you didn’t sign up for. I’m mourning with you for the loss. I’m cheering for you in the rebuilding. I’m praying for you during this transition. I’m loving you from way over here. But more importantly I’m over here in the closet with my comfort food attempting to put it down and open the door to the next wonderful experience!! Just kidding with the last one but I do hate/resist change more than most. Buckets of love coming your way.

  5. I feel your pain, sister. My folks are sad, too, because they loved the group as a whole and are sad it had to split up. On a happy note, you are going to have to step up your blogging since June has retired! We need you, CPQ!

  6. Maybe He wants you there because someone there needs you.

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